Jerusalem is located only six miles north of Bethlehem.

For the Israelis, the separation wall has been erected for security purposes, whereas Palestinians observe it as a violation of their freedom and a means of causing frustration.

"I was here last year and the wall wasn't nearly as complete as it is now," Jed Kaiser, an Episcopalian from Seattle, Washington, said while on a 10-day pilgrimage in the Holy Land. "It looks like a different place now."

The wall, which includes a series of security guard towers, stands at least 25 feet high.

"This is just terrible, especially as I can see how quickly it has evolved." said Sandy Smock of Church of Our Saviour in San Gabriel, California, who visited Bethlehem October 20 for the fifth time in 18 months. "It has incarcerated this entire community."

A Palestinian restaurant owner named Anton, whose business is located about 50 feet from the intimidating sight of the grey concrete obstruction, has found it difficult to sustain a living since the second intifada began in September 2000.

"Bethlehem depends on tourists and they stopped coming because the situation was so dangerous," he said. "Five years ago this area was beautiful, but they have killed this street."

Anton explained that he has many friends in Israel because Bethlehem and Jerusalem used to be like one city, "but with this situation it is difficult for us and them also," he said.

"We need peace and we believe in peace and if we want we could make it in one day," he said. "This wall will not bring peace. If you want to touch someone's heart you need to be close to them. How can you be close to them if there's a wall in the way?"

"Whatever town you live in, just imagine coming out one day and finding a wall going right down the middle of the main thoroughfare," said Kaiser. "That's what has happened here."

Refugees think 'future'

At Dheisheh refugee camp in the occupied West Bank near Bethlehem, 11,000 residents -- 6,000 of whom are children -- live on less than half a square mile of land.

The camp is one of three in Bethlehem -- and 58 in greater Israel -- that were established after the founding of the state of Israel in 1948, known as Al-Nakba -- or "the catastrophe" -- by the Palestinians.

Jihad Ramadan, 25, has lived at Dheisheh all his life and is a volunteer at the camp's Ibdaa Cultural Center, which provides an environment for young people to develop their creativity and leadership skills.

Ramadan explained that the residents come from towns and villages destroyed by the Israeli military.

"[The camp] is very crowded and the people here have very little privacy," he said. "Children don't know about childhood as they should. They know so much about politics in a way that makes their minds grow up more quickly."

The two elementary day schools at Dheisheh offer education to 3,000 children.

Limited services are provided by the United Nations and the Red Cross. The clinic serves 280 patients every day with only one doctor, and medical supplies are inadequate.

In 1967, the Israeli military isolated the residents of Bethlehem, during what is known as the "Six Day War." Following this incursion, the average family at Dheisheh was 6.3 and lived in rooms that were 280 square feet.

Water is unavailable in the summer because residents rely on the rain for their supply, and during the winter electricity is unpredictable.

The camp, however, does have a computer room, the first to be fitted in any of the Palestinian refugee camps. "We have started a cultural exchange program with students abroad," Ramadan said. "We try to educate our people with internet skills because this is important for them to learn."

At present, 13 former Dheisheh refugees are studying abroad with scholarships and more than 35 are being educated at local universities.

A united purpose

One mile away, Bethlehem University educates Palestinian Christians and Muslims primarily from Bethlehem, Hebron and Jerusalem. This year, a record 2,488 students have enrolled and the university -- fully accredited internationally -- continues to strengthen and expand its global connections.

"Our three priorities are teaching, research and outreach," Maro Sandrouni, director of public relations, said. "We provide a variety of cultural, intellectual, spiritual and athletic events which help to overcome the destruction of living under occupation."

Despite the hope that the university instills in its students and the opportunities it creates, there are still challenges in finding employment for graduates.

Brother Jack Curran, vice president for development, explained that it is easier for a Palestinian to travel to the United States than to Jerusalem. "However, education is the way to move all of us forward," he said.

The university has extended its orientation program both for students and parents and, this year, launched its first master's degree in international cooperation development in partnership with educational institutions in Ireland, Italy and the Netherlands.

Every student at the university has a story to tell about the occupation or the wall. Raja'i Alaped described how one of his friends needed to visit a hospital in Jerusalem for ophthalmic surgery. "Even with all the medical reports it took four hours for him to get there," because of security at the checkpoints, he said.

Another student had heart problems, Alaped explained, and he died at the checkpoint where Israeli security forced him to wait for seven hours despite paramedics insisting that he needed to get to the hospital.

"In spite of everything, Bethlehem University remains united in its purpose and steadfast in its resolve to give a new dawn of promise and peace," Sandrouni said.

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